The 74th Hunger Games
by SeleneAherne
Summary: Katniss Everdeen knows the odds are not in her favor, but she must fight to come home. Jamie Moore, the tribute selected with her, accepts that he is going to die - but not before he disrupts everything the Capital is trying to achive with the Games. Everlark. AU.


A/N: I don't own anything.

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

"Ladies first!" Effie Trinket says in a high pitch voice.

This is the moment I've been dreading. Her hand is searching in the full bowl, twirling and prolonging my agony. At this moment, I can't understand why she is smiling so big. The names of District 12 children swirl around her gloved hand and she guaranteed to pull out a death sentence for one of us. I realize my lungs are burning from holding my breath, yet she continues to swirl her hand and smile. The District is so quiet you can hear the wind whistling through buildings.

The 8,000 residents in District 12 crammed together in the square all waiting on Effie to tell them if they will be going home to rejoice or mourn their child. It's sadistic, the pleasure she's getting from this. Then again, that's the Capital for you.

Finally, Effie's gloved hand pulls out a white square and she prances back to the microphone. My lungs feel as if they are on fire. I tell myself that it's not my name that Effie holds. The odds will be in my favor. In the giant glass bowl is my name, Katniss Everdeen, on 18 small folded white squares. _It's not my name,_ I tell myself.

Effie unfolds the crisp square. She smiles and stares out at the square as she says, "Primrose Everdeen!"

I let out all the air I've been holding and feel myself deflating with a moan of horror. It's not my name she's called. My twelve year old sister, who had her name entered just one time, has been chosen for the Hunger Games.

I remember how I held in my arms after she was born. She was still and calm. Her large blue eyes searched the room looking every which way trying to take it all in. I kissed her soft blond fuzz on her head, promising to look after her always. At four years old I realized how small and vulnerable she was. As I watch her tuck the tail of her shirt into her skirt I realize I've not taken a breath since letting out the one I had been holding. My little duck, with two braids is walking to the podium. She's small for her age, making it hard to keep sight of her.

I can't help thinking of previous Hunger Games. Prim stands no chance. I once had taken her into the forest to try and teach her survival skills like forging and hunting. Every twig that snapped and rustle of leaves had her jumping and begging to go home. Every animal I shot with my bow, she talked about nursing back to health once we got home. Prim has never taken the life of another living thing. I'm not even sure she could. Yet, here she is, in a rigged game of roulette.

"Prim," I whisper.

I see her face on the projector, her blue eyes large with shock and a pale face. My little duck is trying to be brave. She's not crying, but blinking as if she's not sure that this isn't a nightmare.

My feet are moving before I know what I'm doing. I can still feel her hand squeezing mine in fear as we approached the square. Last night she had nightmares that her name was chosen. I had brushed her off and told her that it was very unlikely. Her name had only been in the bowl once. So very unlikely, but she was right. My stomach is twisting and I've never wanted to be right more in my life.

As I approach the platform other kids are jumping out of my way. None of them try to stop me as I begin to jog to the platform.

"PRIM!" I shout.

Prim stops, feet from the platform. I see the mask slip and once again she's my little duck. Her eyes lock with mine and her shoulders hunch. I see her mouth say my name, but the Peacekeepers are pushing her forward and approaching me. A few more steps and she will be on the cement platform next to Effie Trinket. A few more minutes and she will be on her way to the capital. She'll be dead before the first day in the arena.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I yell. "I volunteer!"

I know I cannot let her go. The Peacekeepers herding Primrose to the platform have paused and are looking from me to the platform. I keep repeating myself, louder and louder until Effie waves me up. The Peacekeepers escort me up. Effie is looking to the mayor now. They huddle together discussing the rules. I can hear some of it now that I am closer. My District hasn't had a volunteer in such a long time, if ever, that they don't know the rules off hand. Effie keeps mentioning a book and the mayor is trying to wave her off. It's the same mayor who placed a medal in my hands when the mines collapsed on my father. He buys strawberries off me when they are in season, and his daughter is my classmate. I wonder if he recognizes me or just the desperation in my voice.

I've reached Prim and I've got her shoulders in my hands. I push her behind me, but she grabs onto my arm. I feel a pang of guilt because her shoulders feel so frail and boney. I've tried my best to keep food on the table, but there is only so much I can bring in from the forest. I've got to get her away from the podium quickly. I see the fear in her eyes and feel the quivering in her body.

"Prim, let go. Let me go," I say. I feel the Districts eyes on me, the cameras recording my every word and action. I can't cry. I can't cry.

I feel Prim's hold on my arm jerk from behind me as start towards the stage. I see Gale pulling her away. Gale, my best friend and hunting partner, and I have a pact. If ever one of us was chosen for the games, the other would look after the others family. We had made this pact in the woods one day. My woods are just over the fence, full of life. I'm headed into death. I'm bracing myself wiping my face all emotion.

Effie is waving me up, eager to present her first volunteer to the world. She looks excited, as if this is her lucky day. I'm glad that one of us feels lucky right now.

"What is your name?" She asks me.

My palms begin to sweat and I try not to rub them on my dress. I can feel my the saliva in my mouth thickening, ready for me to vomit.

"Katniss Everdeen," I tell her.

I can't make myself look into her eyes; instead I focus on the crowd. My eyes wander over them aimlessly. I can't help thinking, _why not one of them?_ There will be no volunteer to save me. There won't be a sudden change in the rules. The Capital will have their payment of blood, and I've done the only thing I can. I've taken my sisters place.

"Oh! I bet that was your sister! Let's give her a warm round of applause!" She says clapping enthusiastically.

Somehow Gale has managed to cart my sister off and miraculously she has calmed down. As I scan the crowd I don't see her or him. Then the hands begin to rise. The District presses three fingers of the left hand to their lips, and raises their arms in the air. The entire District is giving me our salute of honor and respect. Like me, they know being a tribute from District 12 might as well be a gunshot to the head. I know this is best my District can do. This is my Districts silent protest of the death games. I have become precious to them.

With their silent salute, I've become an emotional wreck inside. I can feel the pain welling inside, begging to be released. I know I can't cry here, the Reaping is recorded and mandatory viewing in all the Districts. If I cry, I will look weak; weaker than I already appear.

As if he knows my thoughts, Haymitch comes barreling across the stage. Haymitch is the only surviving victor of District 12, and now he is my mentor. He stumbles into me while going for the microphone, swinging an arm around me. I can smell the liquor on him this close.

"I like her. I like you," He tells me. Far from crying now, I'm trying not to retch at the smell of vomit on his breath.

"This one's got some spunk!" He says into the microphone. "More than you!"

He's pointing at the camera addressing them. Haymitch is slightly swaying as he reaches for Effie. She quickly side steps him and he stumbles towards her again. I watch as he falls off the stage. Yes, he is disgusting. Yes, he is drunk. But at this moment I am grateful for him. The Peacekeepers jerk him under the arms and drag him from the square. Effie is making quiet sounds of disapproval in his direction.

In those quick moments I am able to compose myself. I am no longer in danger of crying. Without Haymitch here, all eyes are back on me.

I can't seem to think straight with everyone watching, my mind is running in circles. I keep thinking about my dad's weathered face, coal filling in his laugh lines when he got off work. He would run in, swinging us into circles telling us how much he loved us. Prim will squeal in joy, peppering dad's face with kisses. I wish I could run to Prim now and swing her in a circle, telling her how much I love her.

"Now for the boys," Effie says with a cheery voice, brushing off her outfit even though Haymitch never touched her.

This close to her, I can hear her high heels tap the cement as she prances over. She sticks her hand in a bowl that is identical to the girl's bowl. I'm holding my breath again.

_Please, not Gale. Please. Not Gale... Please_. One of us has to stay. One of us needs to be here to take care of our families.

She's twirling her hand, smiling at the crowd. Her hand lifts and in it is a small square.

_Please, not Gale!_ I'm screaming in my mind.

Effie Trinket clears her throat and reads, "Jamie Moore."

I let out the breath I was holding quietly. It's better than I was wishing for. Not only is it not Gale, but I have never heard the name before. Sure, there are Moore's in our District, but I do not know any one named Jamie.

Slowly, a small thin boy shuffles forward with his head down. I note that he is Seam with dark hair just like my own. Neither of us eats regular full meals and our bodies are lacking the strength it will take to win the games.

When he finally makes it to stage I realize how desperate his hunger is. Jamie's eyes are warm brown, but sunken into his face. The boy's cheeks are recessed and his face looks hallow. He looks like the walking corpse he is. A sick part of me thinks how easy it would be to overpower him. I may not eat full regular meals, but my game and forging is more than this creature has had. I'm feeling confident that I could outlast this boy. My stomach twists. I'm already playing the games.

"Are there any volunteers?" Effie asks.

She pauses, waiting to see if another boy will volunteer to be tribute. I cannot remember anyone ever volunteering before me. I've stopped listening to Effie and the mayor. Their words are like a low hum in the background of my thoughts.

Prim can't kill any animals. She won't be able to go into the woods at all. They will only have Lady, our goat. Maybe they can get a stud and Lady can have a few kids. That would give them money for winter. But with kids Lady will need more food. Food that Prim won't be able to get from the woods.

Our mother will be just as useless. She'll sit in her chair at the table and stare into space. After our father died in the mines our mother retreated so far into herself that we almost starved to death. She laid in her bed sobbing in her grief, or sat at the table to stare at the wall. She wouldn't eat or bathe on her own.

At that time I didn't remember about the lessons my dad had taught me. Prim and I made do with what small rations were in the house. I begged my mom to snap out of it. When our month of grievance pay was over and the food was gone I began to get nervous. If anyone found out about our mother they would take us away.

In District 12 there is an old building full of children living in a communal home. There's not much food, the caretakers are abusive, and the kids are tough. Prim wouldn't thrive in a place like that. We would do much better at home, if only I could wake mom up. And I tried. Oh how I tried to wake her up.

Nothing helped. We were starving ourselves trying to ration the food to last longer. But the food ran out. After not eating for two and a half days, I took a handful of Prim's baby clothes to the Hob. I tried to trade them for food, but no one was interested in worn, old baby clothes. I was desperate, begging everyone to just look at the clothes.

When I left the Hob, feeling defeated, I headed to the trash cans behind the Merchants district. Maybe there would be something in them for us to eat. I don't remember when I dropped Prim's baby clothes, but I do remember how sick I felt seeing the bottom of empty trash cans.

There was a loud screech and I saw the Bakers wife had come out to shoo me from her cans. I could smell the fresh bread in the air. It smelled like life, beaconing me closer. But I was done. I had made it three months after dad's death. Three months of scrounging, rationing, and hoping my mom would come back. And to show for it we were starving. I couldn't save Prim, and I couldn't go home with nothing.

I sank with my back against a tree on the outskirt of the Merchants section. I stared at the bakery, smelling the delicious smells, thinking this would be a good as any place to die. And I was ready to die.

I have to change my thoughts. I can't think of that time, of my debts. I don't want that for Prim. She needs to live. And if I don't win, I cannot guarantee that she will survive. She doesn't have the same survival instincts as I do. I don't know how long they will be able to make it without me. I worry they will starve before I can even make it home, if I make it home.

Prim is a wonderful healer, just like my mom. If given the chance she would become an excellent doctor or nurse. Here in District 12 the medical care is more holistic than anything. My mom and Prim mix different plants and herbal treatments for the sick and injured residents of District 12. I just finished stocking up different plants from the woods last week. Maybe that will last them until I get home. Gale will be here, I remind myself. Gale will look after them.

Effie tells us to shake hands. I lean forward and reach for the boy. He grins at me and puts his hand in mine. His hand is boney and dirty, but the knuckles are scraped in bruised. I note that his clothes also look like they could use a good washing as well. Even my mother managed to get us into a bath and dressed in clean clothes for today. This boy seems to have not even made the effort to tuck his shirt in.

"May the odds be _ever_ in your favor," he whispers to me.

* * *

><p>The Peacekeepers have taken me into the Justice Building and into a secured room. I'm in the custody of the Peacekeepers, and they are guarding me like I'm going to fly away at any second.<p>

Selling the thick rug on the floor would feed my family for months. I can't imagine all I would have to sell just to be able to buy a rug such as the one under my feet. The sofa and chair are covered with rich velvet. I run my hand over it as I try not to cry.

Anyone in the District can come to see the Tributes off. This will be their last chance to say goodbye. We don't kid ourselves that the Tributes will be coming home. When there is a Merchant's child Reaped, the line to say goodbye is so long it reaches the double doors. Of course, not everyone gets to say goodbye, as the Tributes are on the Capital's time schedule of one hour.

The door knob turns and I watch Prim and my mom step through. Prims face is red and swollen; tears are running down her face. My mom's eyes are red, as if she was crying, but thankfully her face is dry.

"Prim," I whisper. She runs forward into my arms, her arms locking around me. Her tears soak through the front of my dress, moistening my chest.

"Katniss, you can't go!" her voice is muffled, pressed into my chest. "You can't!"

I hush her and begin to tell them all the thoughts that have been streaming through my head. Prim's not to take any tesserae. It's not worth her name being put into the Reaping more times. They can sell herbs and remedies to the apothecary shop in town. They can take care of the residents in the District. They can sell cheese and milk from Lady. Gale will bring them game and anything they need from the forest. Whatever they do, Prim is not to take any tesserae. Both are nodding, showing they understand.

"Mom, come here," I say standing and leading her to a corner. I look over at Prim, who is still sitting on the sofa still crying. "You have to be strong. You can't retreat into yourself. You can't do it again. She'll die."

Mom's face shows the grief she is feeling. She's already mourning me. We both know the odds of me coming home, one in twenty four.

"I won't. I'll take care of her, Katniss. She's my baby," She says.

"She was your baby when you retreated into yourself and about let us die," I harshly remind her in a low voice. She looks like I've struck her in the face.

"Katniss," Mom whispers, running her hand down my face, "You're my baby too."

I can't speak. I know if I even utter one word I'll cry. Prim comes and wraps her arms around us both. Mom and Prim have tears rolling in rivers down their faces. This will be the last memories I make with them. This might be the last time I see them.

"You can win Katniss," Prim whispers. "You can."

I don't bother to explain the odds, she knows. I don't bother to point out the Careers, the Tributes who train all year for the games like it's a sporting event. I can't tell her I don't think I'll ever see her again. I know for sure Prim is the only person I love with my whole entire heart. I wish I could give her more, but I can't speak.

"Of course she can, she's our huntress." Mom answers for me.

It seems like seconds have passed, and the Peacekeeper is already back. He motions to my mom and sister that the time is up. I know he doesn't want to make them leave. I understand he's just doing his job, but in this moment I hate him. I hate everyone. I feel the anger building. Mom and Prim are lead from the room.

Prim turns back to look at me from the door. The Peacekeeper's hand is on her shoulder. Prim kisses three fingers from her left hand and slowly raises them to me.

"I love you Katniss," she says softly.

"I love you too, little duck."

The door closes. It sounds so final. That part of my life is over. I take a deep breath through my nose and sit down again. I bite my nails trying to imagine the next few days.

The door opens again and I see Gale rush in. He grabs me and pulls me against him tightly. I've known Gale for years now. He's the only person I trust with my life, my secrets, and my family. In the deep woods we've spoken words that are traitorous towards the Capital; words that would end our lives or worse.

"I'll take care of them Catnip. Don't worry," He mutters into my hair.

My head tucks just under his chin. Like me, Gale has been the main caretaker for his family. His father was in the same blast that killed mine. We met in the woods one day while hunting. While I was decent at shooting, my trapping skills were lacking.

I had been hunting all day, with little game to show for it. I remember coming upon a rabbit caught in a snare. None of my snares ever caught any game. I walked up to the rabbit trying to understand the trap, to mimic it later.

I was quiet on my feet, I always had been. Somehow Gale had gotten behind me, heard me, or seen me. He called out, "That's a crime punishable by death…stealing."

Being in the woods was a crime punishable by death. There's no one he could have told without incriminating himself in the process.

"I'm not trying to steal it, I just wanted to see your snare," I had told him.

He asked me what my name was, and I shakily said my name. I don't know if he didn't hear me or if he chose not to hear me, but he's been calling me Catnip since that day.

At first, we didn't like each other. We tried to stay far away, hunting separately. Occasionally we would run into each other and discuss our kills. Over the years we've become friends. We hunt together and pool our spoils to support our families. Gale has three siblings and his mother to support.

"You can shoot Catnip," he says.

I look up at him, nodding. I can shoot. I've gotten good over the years. All my shots are precise, in places that are the most efficient for killing the animal and keeping the most meat. I know I can shoot.

"But other kids Gale?" I ask.

"It's just the same Katniss. You know where the vulnerable places are," Gale trails off, pointing at his heart. I can't think about killing other kids. "Or you can outlast them. That's been done a few times."

I nod again. I can't breathe. Gale takes my hand and holds it as he tells me he will take care of my family. He'll have his brother walk Prim to school. He'll make sure they don't starve. He doesn't say how he will take care of them. We both know.

"But, I don't think I can watch the Games. It's sick," He says. My eyes widen.

"Gale. You can't talk like that…not here."

The door opens and for a second I'm afraid someone has heard him. To not watch the Games smacks of rebellion. Anything that even hints at rebellion is an offence to the Capital, and often times means death. The Peacekeeper tells Gale his time is up. Gale's still holding my hand when I see the next visitor. Peeta Mellark.

Peeta looks at our hands and then blushes, looking out the window. Gale gives me a hug and backs out of the room, keeping his eyes trained on me.

When the door closes us in, I'm back under the apple tree. I'm in the mud, the rain, wishing to die. I feel my hallow belly. I feel the cold seeping into my bones. I know I'm going to die. I'm back there, reliving this terrible memory.

I hear the baker's wife yelling before I see the young blonde boy exit the back of the shop. The bakers wife is yelling at the boy to throw the burned loaves to the pigs. He cheek is bruised and split in one place, and I wonder to myself what she has hit him with.

The boy, he's in my class at school I realize, looks back at the door where his mother just was yelling at him. Then his blue eyes meet mine. I see him break the break into two pieces, and check over his shoulder again. While watching the bakery door, he tosses the bread towards me. It lands at my feet, two loaves of bread. I look up at him, but he's already back inside. I snatched up the bread and ran home. Prim and I cried as we ate a few slices of the still warm burned bread. I owe this boy our lives.

At school the next day I had wanted to tell him thank you. But "thank you" isn't something that comes easy to me. I'm not good with words or telling people my feelings. I watched him from a distance with his friends. They were talking and laughing, but his eyes were on me.

I picked a dandelion from the ground and took a step towards him. He straightened his back as if preparing for me. But I couldn't step forward. I couldn't hand him this small token of gratitude. It wasn't worthy of the life he had given us. That's when I remembered my dad telling me that dandelions meant life.

I remembered the book back home. The book of edible plants in the woods. The woods my dad had taught me to hunt in; the woods that held his bow. I turned and ran away, running all the way home. I took Prim to the meadow where we pulled all the dandelions we could and had a feast.

And here he is, just standing and watching me; the boy with the bread. I know I should say thank you, this is probably my last chance, but I'm so mad. Not at him, but at the circumstances. He shouldn't have had to throw me the bread that saved our lives. My dad shouldn't have been taken from me. I shouldn't be here.

"I brought you this," He holds out a loaf of bread wrapped in the bakery's paper. I know without even opening it that it will be the same bread that saved our lives that day, rich with cranberries and nuts.

"Give it to my family," I say.

I don't mean to sound so angry, but now I owe him again. And I hate owing people. The first debt is always the hardest to replay, and I've not even addressed it. I'm trying to work up the courage to tell him thank you, but he won't meet my eyes now and it's getting on my nerves. I'm getting on my nerves. Why can't I just tell him?

"Of course," He whispers. "I'll take them bread until you get back. I'll look after them."

I can't believe it. I will never stop owing him if he does this, because I don't think I'll ever come back. I'm not sure what to say to him, this boy with blonde curls. I'm glad it wasn't him, I realize. I know I couldn't have fought him to the death. Even though I know this, I can't turn the bread down. The bread he is promising could save Prims life later on. This boy could save my sister again, and I can't turn down his offer. It chews at my pride.

"Can we sit down?" He asks.

I nod at him and sit next to him on the sofa. I wish I was like Prim right now. Everyone loves her. She has a cheery disposition and can talk to anyone. I'm quiet with everyone, even Gale.

He's watching me, probably waiting for me to say thank you. And I should. I know I should, but I'm afraid to talk. I'm afraid of what I will say.

"Are you scared?" He asks. I stare at him blankly.

"I'm sorry. Of course you are. I'm sorry," He says. He's set the bread down and his hands are clenched into fists.

"Why are you here?" I ask. My voice is harsh and I see him flinch at my words.

"I couldn't leave without telling you. I couldn't let you go without you knowing. I care about you Katniss. I want you to come back," He tells me.

I'm shocked. There aren't many people that like me. In fact, I can count them all on one hand. Maybe two if I count Gales family. I'm not sure exactly what he means. Cares about me as a sister? A friend? Something more? I can't contemplate something more. I can't face what that would do to me.

"I want to come back," I whisper.

"You can do it. I know you can. You've just got to… shoot straight," he says, his hands moving enthusiastically as he talks. "I've seen your squirrels, you're great. You'll make it. You'll come back to me."

I see his eyes widen and he coughs before saying, "To us. Uh… home. You'll come back home."

Time seems to drag by as I stare at him. I'm trying to understand what is happening, but the day's events are too much for me to process even simple things. I'm missing something. I can feel it's just out of my reach, but I'm just not getting it. Why is the baker's son, who I've only spoken to a few times to ask for his father, here right now?

"I owe you," I tell him. "For the bread."

I feel lighter, better. It's not a thank you, but at least I have acknowledged what he has done. It's a step. I see him frown as he looks at my face. I realize this is the first time I've sat next to a boy that isn't Gale. I've never been in a room alone with a boy that wasn't Gale. I've been alone in the woods with Gale, but that feels very different from what I'm feeling right now.

Peeta leans over and takes my hand. I feel my eyes widen and I hold my breath. He gently holds it in between his own strong baker's hands. His deep blue eyes search my own, silently making sure this is ok. I swallow and try to breathe.

"You don't owe me. Just come home, Katniss."

The Peacekeeper comes back in, and tells Peeta its time to go. He squeezes my hand tightly and stands. I stand with him and try to pull my hand back but he's holding on tightly. The Peacekeeper is waiting by the door.

"Can I give you a hug?" Peeta asks me.

I nod and I feel his strong arms wrap around me. He holds me close and I press my face into his neck. He smells like baked goods; cinnamon, nutmeg, dill weed, and bread. My stomach is twisting and I feel tears coming again. I'm fighting to hold on to my emotions. Peeta has given me too much. He gives. I owe.

"Shoot straight and don't let them change you. They don't own you Katniss," He whispers in my ear.

He pulls back and grabs my hand. I see the tears on his face. He's crying. He's crying for me, I realize. This boy, the boy with the bread, is crying for me. I swallow. He gives, I owe. He lets go of my hand and picks up the bread for my family. His every movement I commit to memory.

He walks to the door and looks back at me, not bothering to wipe his tears. The Peacekeeper begins to close the door when he's outside it. Peeta's blue eyes watch me as the door slowly closes on us. I will never stop owing him. For the bread. For the hug. For his words. For the life he has given me. For the promises of life.

I sit back on the sofa, cradling the hand that he held. No one else comes to say goodbye to me.

* * *

><p>Effie comes for me and leads me to a car to go to the train station. I've never been inside a car before. I've seen them before driving Tributes to the train, and on the broadcasts from the Capital. I've never touched one though. It's a little warm inside the car, the leather seats are sticking to the back of my thighs.<p>

Effie is sitting between Jamie and I, talking about our schedule and all the glory of the train. I zone her out, trying to enjoy the car ride. It's a bit disconcerting to be moving so fast through the District. I wish the driver would go slower, so I could properly say goodbye to each thing we pass.

All too soon we reach the train station. I see the train, silver and gleaming waiting for us. Surprisingly, there is Madge, on the platform breathing heavily. As we approach I hear her arguing with the Peacekeeper nearby. He's telling her that she has to go, her time to say goodbye was at the Justice Building.

"I'll have my dad compensate you, I only need a few seconds," she tells him.

I'm wondering how Madge knows Jamie, but she turns and throws her arms around me. Madge is here for me. Madge, I realize, is my friend. We don't talk much; mainly just sit in silence with each other at lunch. I've sold her father strawberries for years. I've been inside her home a few times too, but I've never thought we were particularly close. I guess it must have been just as hard for her to make friends as it was for me.

"You've got to wear this. Every Tribute gets a token from home. Please, you've got to wear this," Madge is pressing something in my hand. I look down at the gold pin.

"I can't take this," I start.

"Yes, you can. Wear it Katniss. Wear it in the arena," She's begging me, tears streaming down her face.

"I don't know if I can give it back," I whisper.

Madge chokes a little and closes my hand over the pin. She nods at my hand and then looks me straight in the eyes and says, "You take it, and you come home."

Jamie scoffs behind me. I forgot he was there. I can't afford to let him see me as anything but strong. I nod at Madge and attach the pin to my dress.

"Thank you, Madge." I tell her. Then I turn and board the train. Effie does a wide sweeping motion with her hands to display the train's cabin.

"Well! What do you think!?" She asks.

I think she doesn't want to know. I think she doesn't need to know my thoughts. She wouldn't like them right now.

I'm shown to a lavish cabin on the train that will serve as my room while we are onboard. I collapse on the bed and try to fall asleep.

Somehow, I managed to sleep until the next morning. When I wake up I take a shower and braid my hair again. I find that there is a rich mahogany dresser full with clothes in different sizes. I choose a pair of black pants and a warm blue sweater. I remember the pin from my dress, and I pin my token above my heart.

When I come out to breakfast, I'm shocked. There is a sideboard full of pastries. The table is piled high with different delicacies. There is food everywhere.

Seated at the table, his plate stuffed with food is Jamie. I see his eyes narrow at me, and I compose myself. I grab a plate and fill it with eggs, sausages, and a few pastries. I can't afford not to eat. I've got to put on weight.

One year the games were in a desert. Most of the tributes died of starvation and dehydration. A few extra pounds now will help me later. Jamie seems to have the same idea. We both eat until we cannot fit anymore in our stomachs. I make a point to eat everything on my plate, not wanting to be wasteful.

I know we cannot eat all the food that has been laid out. But- that's the Capital for you. Always wasteful. Never mindful of the starving Districts.

Haymitch and Effie make an entrance, appearing agitated with one another. Effie smiles brightly at us once she realizes we are seated at the table. I'm starting to feel sick from all the food I've eaten, but I'm determined to keep it down.

"Wonderful! You both are already here! This is Haymitch Abernathy, he will be your mentor," She says while gesturing towards Haymitch.

Haymitch throws his body into a chair. His hair is blonde, but looks greasy and unkempt. His shirt has stains on it, a few buttons are missing, and I can smell his sweat from here. I wish he hadn't sat so close to me.

"Good morning," Haymitch says. He fills a tumbler glass with amber liquor and sits back in his chair.

"Ready for the games?" he asks.

Effie huffs behind him and goes to sit on a couch by the window. She picks up a paper and begins to ignore us. I'm starting to feel a panic coming on, but I don't know why. Anxiety is building, threatening to overflow. Haymitch. Haymitch is my life source outside the games. He can't even manage to come to breakfast sober in clean clothes. This is the man that will mean life or death to me. I may in fact lose my stomach full of food after all.

"Glad to see you're drunk already," Jamie says. He leans towards Haymitch, his forearms resting on the table. "It's going to make this conversation so much easier."

"Kid, I've not even eaten yet. Save it for later," Haymitch says.

Jamie laughs and sits back in his seat. I'm not sure what this kid finds funny, but I want to know. Haymitch is making a plate, and Jamie is watching him with sharp eyes. I think I've underestimated this boy. There is something about him that screams survival.

"I'm not going to win. I'm going to die," Jamie tells Haymitch.

Haymitch raises his eyebrows at the kid and laughs. He pulls Jamie's cup over and pours some amber liquid into it.

"How old are you boy?" Haymitch asks.

"I'm 12. My birthday was three days ago. Happy birthday to me," He says sarcastically.

I stare at the face that looks older than 12. This boy is the same age as Prim. My little duck. His odds were the same as her, 1 in thousands. Yet, both Tributes were 12 years old and Seam this year. Gale and I have talked about the selection process. It would be hard to rig it, but it's not impossible for the Capital to rig the Tribute selection from the lower Districts. I can see this would be something they would do, choosing two 12 year olds, to break our spirits.

"Yeah, happy birthday. So, you've already given up? Makes my job pretty easy," Haymitch looks over at me. "And you? Have you accepted your death as well, sweetheart?"

"I'm going to win. I'm going to go home," I tell him.

I have to believe this. I have to go home. Maybe if I keep telling myself this, it will be like a wish come true. But now Haymitch is laughing in my face. He's laughing at me. I feel my anger building at him.

"That's great. Just great. One ready to die, and one ready to kill them all. You do realize you have to kill 23 other kids to go home, right sweetheart?" He asks.

I've let Gale call me Catnip. I've let my dad call me various nicknames. I should be ok with him calling me sweetheart, but I'm not. It pisses me off. He's so smug. Before I can think I pick up a knife and clutch it in my hand while glaring at him.

"What are you going to do with that? Butter toast?" He asks laughing.

I throw the knife as hard as I can into the wood behind his head. I hear Effie gasp and Jamie laugh. Haymitch turns and inspects the knife. It has impressively lodged itself in between two panels. In truth, I wasn't trying to aim there. I knew I wouldn't hit Haymitch's head; that I would lodge the knife into the wall, but that's it. My knife skills are not my best attribute.

Haymitch faces me, a serious look on his face. He looks me over and then looks over Jamie again, as if seeing us for the first time. He nods to himself.

"Can you do anything besides throw knifes?" He asks me.

"I can hunt. I'm good with a bow and arrow," I say. He looks to Jamie and raises his eyebrows.

"I'm good at stealing. I'm quick and I can hide. I have no chance of winning, so that's not my goal," He says.

"Then what is?" Haymitch asks.

Jamie smiles. I realize he would have a handsome face, if he was allowed to grow older. He's small, but taller than Prim. His body is all skin and bones though, adding to the look of death clouding his features.

"I'm going to disrupt everything. I'm going to play, and play on my terms," Jamie says. Haymitch purses his lips and looks over to Effie. Effie, having spilled a little of her coffee on her skirt is a far enough away not to have heard Jamie.

"Disrupt things?" Haymitch whispers, leaning forward towards us. "Like what kid?"

Jamie shakes his head. I can't help it; I've leaned forward as well. I need to know what this boy is planning. Is he hoping to kill me? Is this a ploy?

"I'm not going to play their game. I'm going to play for the Districts," He whispers.

This kind of talk could get us killed. I know it. Haymitch knows it. I'm trying to understand what he means, but Haymitch has already put a finger to his lips.

"Don't say anything else. We'll talk later," He whispers to Jamie. They nod at each other and look to me.

"So you're going to give up and die?" I ask. I can't help it. The question burns at me. "What about your family?"

"What family? My dad was blown up in the mines. My mom starved to death a couple years ago. They met in the Community Home that I live in now. Too bad they didn't get chosen for the games. Look at all this food," Jamie says, gesturing to the food.

I swallow. I can't stay around him. I can't listen to his words. The Capital, the President, the Peacekeepers, and whoever else could hear him. Effie could tell someone. Sure, we wouldn't be directly punished. No, that would be too easy. They would kill off my family first. My friends next. Then they would make my life hell in the games. No, I can't be a part of what these two are up to. I push away from the table and go to sit near Effie.

I see Haymitch nod at me, and Jamie smile. They know. They know I can't.

Haymitch comes and sits next to me after he finishes breakfast. Jamie retires back to his room, to plan who knows what. Haymitch looks excited.

"Jamie says you're a great hunter. He said he will help you win," Haymitch tells me.

I just stare at him. I don't know what to say, not after I understood what Jamie was saying. How can a boy so young be so brave? How can a boy challenge the Capital?

"When we get there, you're going to let the capital do whatever they want. You're going to smile, wave. Try to get them to like you. I'll start training you, and we'll see what we can do about getting you home," He says to me. I note he's sipping water.

There may be hope after all.

* * *

><p>AN: I need a Beta, does anyone have time? Thanks.


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